


From Dusk 'Till Dawn

by officialangelcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic School, Wizard Castiel, Wizard Dean, magical universe, not Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialangelcas/pseuds/officialangelcas
Summary: Dean Winchester is as normal and human as it could possibly get, so why is he being approached by Bobby Singer for a position at the Edenvale School of Magic? Suddenly there's a prophecy to be fulfilled, a new world to learn and a love to be kindled. I mean, it'll be fine...right?





	1. The Trials

     “ _ For those of you just tuning in, welcome to 105.1 sponsored by the Hell’s Angels Gentlemen’s Club! ‘Are you looking to add some magic to your life-’” _

     Dean quickly turns the radio tuner, cutting off the advertisement to the sleazy local strip joint he’s driven passed at least a hundred times. Groaning tiredly, he pulls out of Winchester Mechanics, turning on his headlights to follow the darkened road that lay between him and his much-deserved night of sleep. In need of a steaming hot shower as well, if the smell of oil and musk that clung to his well-worn t-shirt had anything to say about it.

     He stretched his back against the leather seat, extending a single hand to the steering wheel as he gently weaved Baby through the familiar streets and alleys of Lawrence. His eyes squinting as he saw a faint orange glow radiating from the next street. Curious, he turns on Birch street only to come across well-defined and angry shades of red and orange bursting from the house at the end of the block; a house fire.

     Coming to a screeching halt, he pulls over quickly to wrench his driver’s side door open, not even giving a thought to cut the ignition. He stands straight, alert as he frantically searches for another person, another car even, wondering if anyone could be home. “Hello?! Anyone need help in there?!” he yells as he walks cautiously towards the house. He curses, knowing the battery on his phone is depleted due to his knack for blasting Metallica during his scheduled work hours. He hesitantly steps toward the blazing two story Colonial, feeling drawn to the fire inside. He runs the last steps to the house and opens the front door, quick to be greeted by flames from the kitchen. It had spread throughout much of the house, reaching the foyer at the front of the stairs. He looks over to the living room, shielding his eyes from the smoke to see a young girl folded into herself. She hadn’t noticed Dean come inside. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?! Get out! Is anyone else in here?!” he yells, striding over to grip her by the arms.

     “I-I was babysitting and the fire just...she’s still upstairs! I-I don’t know what to do!” she weeps hysterically, shaking and almost paralyzed in fear. He pulls her back to the front door, pushing her towards the yard, and yelling to her to contact a neighbor as he made his way back inside. This time with the purpose of heading up the stairs. Setting his foot upon the first step was followed by a cacophonous groan as a wooden beam came crashing from above, a line of fire suddenly obstructing his view.

     He doesn’t even think, just runs straight through it, feeling the heat and expecting to feel his skin blistering from the lick of the flames, but there’s nothing, no harmful sensation--just warmth. Like standing in front of a fireplace. He doesn’t slow down, pushing his way to the top with little thought as to how there is no burning protest from his lungs. He looks through the doors closest to him, yelling for any sign of life and looking for any hint of movement. He finally comes across a small yellow room, where a little girl rocked back and forth mimicking the position of the babysitter found moments earlier.

     She’s crying, sobbing for her mom and dad. “Hey, hey, shh, come on, you’ve gotta come with me,” he crouched slightly, trying not to frighten her with the sudden appearance of his broad frame. “I’m going to get you out of here, you’ve just gotta hold on, sweetheart,” he says calmly leaning down fully to grasp her from beneath to knees.

     “A-Are you a fireman?” she asks through tears as he gently scoops her up to rest in his arms.

     “Sure am, kid. I’m here to get you out,” he says, running once again through the fire that they both now seem to be shielded from.

***

     Dean didn’t make it home until the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. On the way to his next shift, he drove his usual route to work, making a slight detour to pass the neighborhood where the house had been. When he left, it was because he had was told by Amanda, the babysitter, that the fire department was on their way. He drives to the end of the block, curious to see how much damage was inflicted on the home.

     But all he saw was grass, not even any space for a house, really.

     Almost as if it had never been there at all.

     He hits the breaks quickly, his tires screeching once again on the pavement at the end of Birch. He wasn’t crazy, he knew the house was definitely on this street. He’d had things like this happening to him for weeks.

     He walked into a store a few weeks ago and there was a robbery, the guy didn’t want any witnesses. He pointed the gun at Dean and it was miraculously jammed. Then a fire at the shop, a car caught fire and he went to go get someone but he turned back to look at it and the fire was out. Shadows of figures tailing watching him but when he’d turn around no one was there. He’s grown tired of this shit, he’s  _ not _ crazy.

     He goes off to work as usual unable to shake the thought of the house just being gone. He goes inside to find his dad working on some paperwork at his desk.

     “Mornin’,” John mutters not looking up from his desk.

     “Morning...hey, would you mind looking into this house on Birch Street, its uh- a client billing address.” Dean mentions nonchalantly.

     John turns to his computer and types for a moment then says, “House number?”

     “One Fifty-six, I think.”

     He nods and looks back at the computer. “I don’t know what to tell you, son. Looks like that street only goes to fifty-five.”


	2. Admissions

        Two weeks after the mysterious house fire, something he has adamantly tried to stop thinking about incessantly, Dean is about to enter his own apartment with remnants from a run to the grocery store. He closes his trunk and turns to see a man standing stoically on the pavement beside his driveway. “Uh...hello...Er- I don’t have any cash on me, if you’re homeless, that is,” Dean says.

        The man tilts his head to the side and coughs awkwardly, “No, I’m not homeless...My name is Bobby Singer, I work for the admissions office of the Edenvale School of--”

        “Listen man, are you selling something? ‘Cause this is my only day off and I’d just like to get inside and relax for the day.” He says, eyeing the man claiming to work for an admissions office adorned in a simple plaid shirt and jeans, and a baseball cap to boot.

        “No, son, I ain’t selling anything. I’m here to welcome you to Edenvale… uh, officially,” Bobby says.

        “Right… Edenvale...your school,” Dean trails, a little confused, “...of?”

        “Right, well this is the part that I’m sure would get harder to believe,” the man named Bobby offers. Dean squints at the man before him, thinking he should maybe make his way inside so he could have some privacy while he contacts the local sheriff.

“Right, look buddy, you’re old and clearly confused. I don’t have any money so please just...I’m gonna go inside and you stay out here,” Dean interrupts, nodding to himself.

        “I suppose I at least _tried_ to do this the nice way.”

        And this is the moment that Bobby then proceeds to brace his hands on Dean’s shoulders, exerting just enough force to push him into the oncoming traffic. Bags of groceries in hand and all. Dean places his arms out instinctively and the car stops a mere two inches shy of colliding into him.

        Well, that would be a rather tame explanation of what _actually_ happens, which is that there stood Dean, doing his best deer-in-headlights impersonation when the blue 2007 Toyota Corolla is suddenly flipped hood-first into the road before him-- and there it stays. In a random Kansas neighborhood, is a car doing the greatest balancing act Dean has ever seen. And he is pretty sure he is the one controlling it. The groceries are suddenly of no concern, left abandoned near the double yellow line and a look of horror is reflected back at Dean by the man who is unfortunate enough to be the one behind the wheel.  

        Dean blinks, and is knocked out of a reverie he isn’t even aware he was in as the car groans, a harsh metal screeching surrounding the area as the car leans backward. The metallic sound only stopping when a resounding boom takes its place as the automobile finds itself horizontal again.

        “Edenvale School of _Magic_ ,” Bobby says resolutely.

        Dean gapes at the man and steps absentmindedly out of the road. “Well, I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”

***

        Dean approaches the small kitchen table in his apartment, each hand grasping a beer.  “So...wizard? With magical powers? You know that sounds insane, right?” He asks, looking disturbed as he takes a gulp from his own bottle as he offers the other to the guest he’s starting to regret inviting. Bobby declines politely, but Dean doesn’t miss the longing look he gives the amber liquid.

        “You must have noticed your abilities by now. You stopped a car, you walked through fire, you jammed a gun, hell, you jump-started a car last week without any cables, boy. Are you tellin’ me you ain’t been noticin’ these things?  Humans don’t do that,” Bobby says.

        “You know about those?” Dean asks, instantly suspicious.

        “Ah yes, the fire...your final trial, actually,” Bobby stops, seeing a cloudy expression start to take over Dean’s countenance. “Think of them as tests-- tests to make sure you were ready to join us,” he further explains.

        “You couldn’t have just asked me to do a fucking card trick?” he asks hotly. “You created a fake house, a fake family, a fake fucking fire.”

        “Oh, it was real. Very real,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, seeing where this might go in the line of questioning.

        “So I could’ve died, is what you’re saying? What if you were wrong? What if I didn’t have...didn’t have _powers_ ,” Dean spits the last word out, unsure of how to feel about the concept as a whole.

        “You weren’t going to die, son, don’t be ridiculous. Someone would’ve stepped in before that happened. And we couldn’t have just asked you to do magic.” He stops, mulling over the next sentence, “Magic is emotional, especially beginner magic. We don’t expect anyone startin’ out to immediately know how to control it. Edenvale is for training. Young minds being shaped and whatnot-”

        “So like, Hogwarts?”

        “No, ya idgit! Not like Hogwarts. You wouldn’t be able to have even a flippin’ laptop at Hogwarts, or a cellphone, or-.”

        “Okay, well I see this is a sore subject so, well-- what, then? Are you here to recruit me? For wizard school or whatever?”

        “Something like that,” Bobby offers.

        For a moment Dean thinks about it. He thinks about an extraordinary life-- a life beyond a car shop, grease stains and long hours. A life beyond the sigh he gets from John Winchester when he knows he’s thinking about how Sam’s the one that isn’t here-- a life where he’s enough.

        “You want me to just drop everything and come study magic,” he looks down thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t. I have responsibilities, here. I already _have_ a life.”

        Seeing that the current strategy is lacking conviction, Bobby leans forward. Intent on being heard. “Listen son, there’s this… well let’s just call it what it is, a prophecy.” He breathes in deeply before he continues. “Boy, you’re coming to this school. Whether you think you won’t is a non-issue. It’s already carved in stone.

        “This gift you’ve got-- the magic. It’s not for people like you. For generations upon generations, we’ve only bred magic from _blood_. It’s where it comes from, lineages that can be traced are all we’ve got in the way of our history.”

        “I’m not sure I’m following,” Dean breathes.

        “Well,” he pauses, “Yours ain’t.”

        “What?”

        “Your magic isn’t passed down, son. We don’t know where it came from and frankly, it scares the hell out of us. But, like I said, there’s this prophecy. This is _supposed_ to happen. You’re supposed to be here. We just don’t know why.

        “This is _your_ destiny, Dean Winchester. Nobody else’s.”

        Dean considers these words nervously, because the weight of their meaning is immense, but he doesn’t know that yet. He just knows this sounds way too good to be true.

        “That’s all well and good, but,” Dean stops looking for any excuse that could possibly compete with a freakin’ _prophecy_.”Well, then you try telling John Winchester that his first born isn’t gonna run the family shop.”

        “Alright, let me handle that,” Bobby agrees, a smirk gracing his face.

***

        “I mean, we’re offering your son a free ride into our school of engineering. It’s a great investment for his future in your family business, I can assure you,” Bobby says as he leans back in John Winchester’s favorite chair, _his first mistake_ , Dean supposes.

        John sniffs, “Listen, Dean’s not interested in any corporate work, and as far as I’m concerned he already has enough experience to run the shop if I weren’t there every day breathing over his neck, so there’s really no need for any expensive school-”

        “Right well, I spoke to Dean and he mentioned that he was interested as long as it was free,” he interrupts.

        “Well I need Dean here at the shop,” he says stubbornly.

        “Well, excuse me for my boldness, but Dean has a lot more potential than just a small shop, Mr. Winchester, and-”

        “Alright, I’m going to need you to get the hell out of my house now,” John says and stands up motioning to the door.

        Bobby opens his mouth, most likely to say something else that would further anger his mule of a father. But Dean looks Bobby in the eye, giving a firm shake of his head. So Bobby says, “Gladly.”

        Dean walks him out, he drove Bobby here but as far as Dean knows he won’t need a ride back with him.  “He’s not going to give in, trust me. He’s stubborn. I can’t leave here and drive a wedge further between me and him. I mean, thanks for trying to smooth it over, but I just don’t think this’ll wor-”

        “Boy, this is the most important thing that you could be doing with your life. Do you want to spend every day of your life in some shop? Every day the same. There’s a whole world out there that you haven’t even scratched the surface of.”

        He takes a deep breath, “Alright. Okay. I’ll deal with him.”

***

        A week later Dean has taken a ridiculous “aptitude test”, has had Bobby give him a rundown of any need-to-know information about the world he’s suddenly a part of and is now closing the last suitcase containing vestiges of his “normal life” in preparation for the Edenvale School of Magic. And as he throws that same suitcase into the trunk with the rest of them, and peels out of his driveway for the last time in what could be a very long while (against his father’s wishes, might he add), he almost feels free.


End file.
